


The Consequences of Winning.

by Reddwarfer



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Background Relationships, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reddwarfer/pseuds/Reddwarfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all the cases Annalise has won, she's never felt further from victory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Consequences of Winning.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rhllors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhllors/gifts).



> After considering and dismissing the first two iterations of this story, I finally settled on this one. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> This story refers to the canon relationships characters have on the show, but doesn't really reach the level of 'ship fic' that I think would lead to tagging for it. Let me know if you think I should do otherwise.
> 
> Many thanks to "L" for the beta.

Annalise leans against the doorframe and watches as Wes paces around the small room, holding court to the rest of the team. He's talking animatedly about his theory on how to rescue their latest client from themselves. Everyone gives him their attention. It's a far cry from respectful attention. Connor's smirking, Laurel's pretending to read a text on her phone, Michaela's paging through a book, and Asher rolls his eyes every ten seconds. Yet, he's got their attention.

He's good at that.

She thinks of the way her life is now, wondering when the ugly truth might rear its head and screw them all over. She doesn't think she'll breathe easy 'til she's dead. The specter of her dead husband hangs over all of them. It's not the elephant in the room it once was, but it's like a brightly colored, tacky tourist knick-knack in a room filled with antiques. Even when you try to ignore it, it's always hovering in the background, catching the corner of your eye. They're less twitchy, now, than they'd been the last few months. She wonders if it's because they know she knows or if they're sure they won't get caught anymore. 

Annalise prickles at the idea of it being the former, but the latter is just stupidity.

She wonders, sometimes, how she even got to this point. It started with Wes. Quiet, unassuming Wes. They had a kinship, she thinks. It'd have been easier if it were sexual, but it wasn't. The problem was she liked him. Worse, she _trusted_ him. Even now, she trusted him. Even knowing she shouldn't. He'd lied to her, more than once. He'd agreed with her to her face and then did the opposite the second he was out of her sight. He'd taken out her trash, without permission. She always filled her team with the best liars in her class. Wes, originally, had been her one anomaly. A truth-teller in a sea of bullshitters. Turns out, he's the best liar of them all. Still, she trusted him.

"All right," she says, after another five minutes of watching Asher pointlessly bicker with Michaela just for the sake of hearing his own voice. "Track these leads down. Finding the witness should be easy enough, but the video surveillance might be trickier. We already have a pretty solid case, but it's important to never leave loose ends. Someone always finds them. A good tug, and the whole case can unravel before your eyes."

"I guess I'll have to cancel on dinner with Mrs. Walker," Michaela says, sounding not all unhappy about it. She sends the woman a text, because she's still clueless on how to not piss off her future mother-in-law.

Connor, however, tosses his head back against the chair with an overly dramatic flair. The boy's probably legitimately upset, but refuses to let anyone know. "Oliver is going to kill me."

"You'll just have to make it up to him later. Buy him a bouquet of dildos," Asher says, because he's an absolute shit. 

"I bet all the girls you've ever dated wished you'd do the same," Connor retorts, sending a wink over to Bonnie, because if someone's being a shit, Connor feels the need to outshine them.

"Quit complaining," Laurel says, eyes flickering over to Frank. "This isn't even the fiftieth time we've had to cancel our plans."

"But Oliver was going to celebrate me getting my sixty day chip!" Connor groans theatrically as he puts on his coat.

Michaela tuts at that. "I still can't believe you lied to him about having an addiction."

"What was I supposed to say?" Connor asks, perilously swaying close to the topic no one wants to talk about. Michaela and Laurel both take turns flicking their eyes toward Asher then her.

"I can think of at least ten things," Laurel says," but she cleverly moves the subject along by asking, "don't you have to go to meetings to get chips?"

"You can get them online, these days." Connor proudly pulls a chip out of his pocket. 

"He's too good for you," Michaela says, and Connor's smile droops. Michaela notices this, and gives him a small smile. "Just try to not make him regret forgiving you."

"I won't," Connor promises, serious, and she shakes her head. Love makes people stupid, Annalise thinks, and she's not sure if it's Connor or his boy, Oliver she's referring to.

Slowly, they all gather their things and head out. Wes, of course, hangs behind, not even bothering to be subtle about it. Which leads to Asher and Michaela attempting slow their own exit, not wanting to give Wes any more imaginary advantages than they believe he already has. Eventually, they both give up on waiting, with bad grace, and leave with matching mutinous expressions.

"I saw Rebecca yesterday," Wes says as soon as they're alone. It takes everything in her not to visibly react to the name. That girl's caused no end of trouble, and Wes happily goes back for more. Then again, people thinking with their dicks is about eighty percent of the reason lawyers have jobs. "I took her somewhere to hang low for a while. She's safe. I made sure of it."

"You sure about that?" Annalise asks, because nothing about that girl is safe. She's a disaster who's already happened waiting to strike again. "You've said that before."

"I'm sure of it," Wes says, faith unwavering, despite all the evidence to the contrary. "She's not even in the state anymore."

"I'd say this makes her look more guilty," Annalise says, sighing heavily. "But I'm not sure it's possible. I'm not sure it matters."

"She's not going to say anything," Wes assures her, willing her to believe him. "I know I've said it before, but this time I know it's true." He holds up his hand, and shows off a cheap gold ring around his finger. "She's on my side."

'You stupid boy,' Annalise thinks. It takes a moment to shake herself loose of all the things she wants to say to him. Instead, she swallows down the sob that threatens to escape and forces a smile on her face. "I suppose I owe you some congratulations."

Wes' smile falters a bit. "I know you don't trust her, but at least trust that she loves me."

Annalise stares at him, wishing for all the world she could see into his head, find out how it works. "Love doesn't always last forever," she says, at last, waving one hand to the place where she found her husband, dead, on the floor.

Wes' eyes flicker to the spot on the floor, and back up again to her. "Sometimes it does."

Sighing, she shakes her head. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"It'll be fine," Wes says, stepping closer. His face is filled with determination, assurance. Her faith in him is unwavering, she guesses, despite all evidence to the contrary. Her world is decorated liberally with hypocrisy on a clever foundation of lies, half-truths, and desperation. "Everything will work out. I'll make sure of it."

She fights against the part of her that trusts him, and fails. "Thank you, Wes. Now, go along before the rest of team gets it in them to ask questions."

He smiles at her, that wide, innocent smile of his that fools everyone, gives her a respectful nod, and leaves.

She goes into her study, pours herself a drink, and stares aimlessly at the spot the trophy used to live. Annalise is about eighty percent sure her dead husband won't get dropped on her lap like an unwanted gift. She's got a team of some of the best liars she's ever picked with a personal, vested interest in making sure no one finds out. She's free of the shackles of a marriage that lost its shine years ago. Her lover's wife asked for a divorce. She's got her pick of cases now that her name's been floating around the news for the last few months.

She's got money, freedom, love, and a solid career. Somehow, it doesn't feel like winning.

Closing her eyes, Annalise takes a sip of bourbon, relishes the way it burns her throat, and waits for Nate to come over later.


End file.
